Masochistic Love
by twinkminded
Summary: It took two months of torture for Voldemort to discover Harry's secret pleasure, and how it complimented his own. HP/LV
1. Chapter 1

It had taken Voldemort almost two months to realize it.

He'd had Harry Potter in his dungeon for two months, having captured the boy near his home on Privet Drive. Two months that he went down daily to torture the boy. Oh, he could have killed the brat as soon as he got him, but this was much more fun.

Two months. Voldemort grinned sadistically as he remembered the day he found out Potter's secret.

He'd been using the whip that day, adding deep wounds to the already scarred flesh. He'd had the boy chained in the center of his cell, his arms bound and raised up to the bar the chain was latched to. He'd just walked around the front of the boy and laid the first lash to the thin chest when he saw it.

The boy had an erection.

Voldemort had raised his eyes to stare at the boy. Usually his face was pressed to the wall, or hidden behind his hair. It wasn't this time. And he could see the way the boy tried to keep the pleasure off his face, his cheeks flamed red.

After that he'd started to add sexual remarks to his torture before he decided to just plain add sex. He'd started it off slowly, jerking the boy while he hurt him, fingering him while he flogged his back.

Oh how he'd enjoyed when a month later Harry finally stopped pretending to hate what was happening. The first day he'd walked into the cell to find Harry naked and kneeling on the floor, willing to call him his lord and master was certainly a turning point. While Voldemort enjoyed what he did to the boy, he'd always waited to be back in his rooms before jerking himself to the thoughts of the screams and blood.

That day was the first time he cummed (not really the way to say it, but to say came was confusing.) in the cell, his cock choking the boy while green eyes stared up at him. It was only a couple days after that he'd started fucking the boy, enjoying the screams of pleasure and the ones of pain he caused.

He also remembered the first time he went down to the dungeons and didn't torture the boy, in anyway.

Harry had been curled up on the small cot he'd been given, wrapped in the blanket Voldemort had also given him. The boy had been weak and feverish, one of his wounds had been infected.

It wasn't long after that he'd moved Harry into the small bedroom connected to his own, though he kept him confined to that room for several weeks before expanding the boy's prison to his own room.

After several more weeks Voldemort realized that Harry wasn't his enemy anymore. They spent time talking and simply enjoying each other's presence. They even talked about the changes he was making in their world, and the boy surprisingly agreed with most of what he was doing and was willing to offer his own opinion.

He unlocked the bedroom then, allowing Harry free run of the manor, though the magic-suppressant band remained on his ankle.

Needless to say that his inner circle had been surprised when he'd told them of Harry and that he was not to be harmed. Except of course for Lucius, who'd already known. Voldemort himself had been surprised when the older wizards began to like and even respect the boy. It had taken six fights with Bella; five broken noses and three breaks of her wand hand for Bella and being cursed many-many times for Harry before the two finally got past their hate. For some reason after the worst fight, where they both had needed quite a bit of healing, they had been come friends.

He'd never seen Harry as happy as the day he removed the band and gave him his wand, giving him his trust. He'd also given permission for Harry to leave the manor as long as he went under a glamor and with an escort. Scarily enough, he'd gone shopping with Bella and Draco Malfoy the next day.

"Voldemort," Harry moaned, bring him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm," he hummed, staring down at the bloodied back under him. Harry was lying on his stomach on their bed, Voldemort sitting on the back of his legs, making thin cuts on the pale back with a knife.

"Please," he begged, wiggling a little under him.

"Be still, pet," Voldemort ordered, smacking one of the wounds with his bare had, earning a small gasp at the sting.

"Please, My Lord," he whined.

"Please, what?" Voldemort asked, running a hand up the boy's back, through the thin layer of blood.

"Please fuck me."

He grinned and waved his hand, releasing Harry's hands from the headboard. "Turn over," he said, moving so that the smaller man could do as told.

Harry turned onto his back, grimacing a little in pain, his lust-filled eyes on Voldemort's own.

Voldemort settled between Harry's thighs and leaned down to kiss and bite the boy's sweat lips.

"Please," Harry begged again, wrapping his arms around Voldemort's neck and legs around his waist.

Three hours later, after a much needed shower and breakfast, Voldemort sat on his thrown, Harry lounging on a large, soft cushion at his feet. He didn't insist Harry sit there, the boy just seemed to prefer it to the chair Voldemort offered to conjure. The Death Eaters didn't care where the young wizard sat, they still respected him as their second lord.

"Today is a special day," Voldemort said to the Death Eaters gathered in the large meeting hall. They no longer wore masks, no longer had to keep hidden. Voldemort controlled their world, ruling from the side, allowing his people to be the ones in public.

"We have the last of Dumbledore's Order," he continues as five prisoners were dragged into the room.

"Harry!" The Weasley matron cried out when she spotted the young wizard, causing the other three to look up in surprise.

"Ah, Albus," Voldemort said before anyone else could say anything. "I'm so glad you could join us."

"Tom," Albus scowled.

Voldemort sneered at the sound of his birth name, no one called him that.

"Let us go, you monster," one of the others yelled.

"Really, Tonks?" Harry asked, twisting so that he sat up on his cushion. "You really think that you might just be released?"

"Harry! We thought you were dead! Why are you sitting there?" A thin man with sandy blond hair said, the werewolf. "Help us!"

One of the Death Eaters snickered, even the corner of Voldemort s lip twitched up in amusement.

"Why would I?" Harry asked calmly. "You stand against us."

"You didn't join him, did you, my boy?" Dumbledore asked sadly.

"I am not yours!" Harry exclaimed, his wand suddenly in his hand and pointed at the old man. "You lost me four years ago when you sent me back, yet again, to those damned muggles! When you didn't even check the wards that were supposed to protect me! When your precious Order guard allowed me to be taken by Death Eaters!"

"We tried to save you, cub!" The werewolf cried out.

"Didn't work very well, did it?" Voldemort smirked, running his hand through Harry's long hair to calm him a little.

"Harry," the Weasley woman cried.

"Traitor!" Tonks screamed at Harry.

Bella was suddenly behind the woman and kicked her in the back, making her fall on her face. "You speak to our Lord with respect!"

Harry snickered.

"Lord?" Dumbledore asked softly, somewhere between surprised and horrified.

"That's right, show your respect," another Death Eater said.

"Can we just kill them now?" Harry asked, looking up at Voldemort. "They're pleading is annoying."

Voldemort had to chuckle a little at the gasps of horror and shock that comment earned from the prisoners.  
"I'll silence them if you wish, pet," Voldemort said to his lover. "But I am going to have my fun, at least with the old man. You can kill the others if you want."

"Please do," Harry said calmly. "I hate when they beg for me to help them."

"Harry, how could you join him?" Dumbledore asked before he could be silenced.

"Because Lord Voldemort takes care of me," he told him. "Because he is My Lord and I love him." It was true, and he told the man a couple times before so it was no surprise.

"You know he can't love," Dumbledore said sadly.

Harry waved a hand to silence the man. "Perhaps not," he said calmly. "But he takes care of me, made me his equal, and gives me everything I need and want."

Voldemort ran his hands through the boy's hair again, smiling inwardly at the devotion and love in his voice. He may not be able to actually love the boy, but he did belong to him and he took very good care of what belonged to him.

"Severus," Harry said lightly and the man stepped forward. "Would you like to play with Lupin? I know how much you hate the wolf."

The Potion Master smirked. "I would, My Lord," he said bowing his head to the small wizard.

Harry waved a hand in dismissal and the man took the werewolf out of the room, two others following after Voldemort nodded his head in permission.

"You don't wish to play with any of them, pet?" Voldemort asked.

"No, My Lord," Harry said with a teasing grin, knowing how the man loved him calling him that.

"Do not be cheeky or I will have to punish you," Voldemort warned.

"Will you do it in the dungeon?" He asked, almost begging. "We haven't been there in a while."

Voldemort grabbed Harry's chin in a tight grip, forcing his head back farther. "I will chain you up and beat you until you can't scream anymore and your blood covers the floor," he promised huskily.

Harry moaned, not caring who heard him. The Death Eaters already knew of his perversion, several had walked in on Voldemort beating him or fucking him.

"Make them watch," Harry suggested with a twisted grin. "It would hurt them so much."

Voldemort chuckled darkly. He so enjoyed what Harry had become. All Voldemort had to do was discover Harry's secret pleasure and give it to him.

All he had to do was hurt Harry in the way he loved and the boy willingly joined him, became the perfect pet and consort he could ever want.


	2. Chapter 2

::Parsletongue::

Harry was chained to the wall of the dungeon, naked and shivering slightly with the cold. A young woman was similarly chained and unclothed only a meter away, her eyes filled with terror.

He cried out in pain when the cane hit his back, exactly over an open wound.

The girl next to him cried out, trying to turn her head away from what she knew was going to happen to her. Except that she couldn't. Bellatrix had made sure the girl couldn't look away, just another part of her torture.

When the cane struck again Harry had to bite his lip to keep from moaning in pleasure. It wouldn't do for the girl to know this wasn't his torture, but his choice. He wanted to be hurt, and if it helped to scare the girl, an added point for Voldemort, his lover, lord, master, his everything.

He continued to scream and fight against his restraints, even as he heard the beginning of the woman's beating.

He shivered when he felt Voldemort's body press against his back. "Make sure you scream," the man hissed, loud enough to be heard by the woman. "Let her know that she is next." It wasn't quite true, Voldemort wasn't going to rape the woman, but one of the Death Eaters might.

Harry screamed as Voldemort entered him after a silent lubrication spell. He hadn't been prepared in any other way and it hurt, hurt so good.

::That's it, pet:: Voldemort hissed softly in his ear. ::Scream::

Harry bit back a moan as he pretended to fight against the bruising grip the other man had on his hips. They didn't act out rape often, this was actually only the third time they'd done this as a way of terrorizing prisoners.

Harry struggled as though wanting to get away, crying out with each painful thrust. He turned his head to look at the woman, letting her see his tear streaked face. He actually took pleasure in the fear in her eyes, in her cries of pain and fear.

He gasped when he was shoved harder against the wall and began to feel a stirring in his groin.

"It's starting to wear off," he warned his lover quietly. He'd taken a potion before coming down to keep from getting an erection, but it only worked for so long.

"I don't care," Voldemort growled, leaning back enough to press one hand against his back, slowing his thrusts. "It worked long enough to do what we wanted."

Harry looked back to the woman. Tears were streaming down her face and her voice was starting to become raw from screaming. Her back was red and already welting from the whip being used on her.

Harry gave her a little smile, as if to reassure her. "If you're really good," he said, gasping as Voldemort thrust a little harder than his last. "You might only have one of the guards." He smirked a little, gasping as he was thrust into again. "But I haven't heard of any prisoner being that good."

Voldemort chuckled at the renewed terror in her eyes.

Harry moaned and pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall, no longer caring about the woman.

"Only you have ever been good enough, pet," Voldemort told him before slowly raking sharp nails down his back.

Harry cried out, this time letting it known it was in pleasure.

"And only for you, My Lord," he said, pushing back, wanting his lover to speed back up. He moaned loudly a minute later when his wish was granted.

Harry wasn't quite sure how long they were in the dungeon, or what happened to the woman, after he completely lost himself in what was being done to him and he'd barely been conscience afterward.

"Voldemort?" He groaned, turning over in their bed, hissing soft when his injured back met the bed.

"Go back to sleep, Harry." His voice came from the sitting room of their chambers.

Harry rolled back onto his stomach as looked to the open doorway. "Did she break?" He asked casually.

"She did."

Harry hummed in acknowledgement. So their scene had helped more the process along.

Harry knew he should care about what happened to her, what happened to anyone in the dungeon, should care about all the people who were hurt and killed by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, but he gave up caring about others a long time ago.

The day he first knelt before Voldemort was the day he stopped caring about anyone else. That was the day he'd accepted that he wanted to not care, wanted to simple stop being what others wanted and just be what he wanted. He'd accepted that he wanted to be taken care of, to be own, to be hurt, by Voldemort, his Lord. That was the day he willingly surrendered everything to the Dark Lord and stopped caring about anyone else.

"So you know where the traitor is?"

"Of course, pet," Voldemort said and was suddenly in the doorway. "Would you like to come tomorrow and help get him?"

Harry shook his head. "You know that the fighting and stuff doesn't interest me."

"Just the politics," his Lord chuckled as he removed his dressing gown and sat on the bed.

"Hurting others just isn't what I like," he reminded him.

"I know," Voldemort said softly, picking up a bottle of special lotion from the bedside table. "You just like to watch others be hurt." He poured some of the lotion on Harry's back. "And to be hurt."

Harry hummed in agreement, his eyes slipping closed as long thin fingers began working the cream into his back, healing his wounds and ensuring that any scar left would be small.

His muscles were like putty by the time Voldemort had spread the cream over his ass and down his thighs.

"Better, pet?" The man whispered.

"Much," he said then moaned as one of the slippery fingers slid into his hole.

"Just relax," Voldemort said softly and began to slowly stretch him open.

When his cock finally pushed into Harry, the younger man could only moan in absolute pleasure.

"That's it, pet," he said, his lips pressed to Harry's neck, as he slowly rocked their bodies together. "Just relax and enjoy."

Harry moaned softly, his body completely pliant. It was times like these, when his lord was so gentle that Harry could almost believe that the older wizard loved him. He knew it wasn't true, Voldemort couldn't love anyone, but he did care about Harry, he took such good care of him.

"Please," he whined as he felt his orgasm building. "Please, Voldemort."

::Yes:: His lover hissed in his ear as Harry's walls tightened around him as he came, drawing Voldemort's orgasm with it.

They had barely regained their breath when someone knocked on the outer door of their rooms.

"Come in," Voldemort called, not bothering to remove himself from Harry, not that Harry cared.

Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway a second later, his face showing no emotion about the sight before him. "My Lords," he said with a bow.

"What is it?" Voldemort snapped.

"We found a mudblood on the grounds."

"And that was reason enough to disturb us?" Harry growled, glaring at the blond.

"Forgive me, My Lord," Lucius said, bowing his head. "But I felt you would wish to know, Lord Harry."

"And why is that?" He asked, then whined when Voldemort eased himself out of his body.

Lucius kept his eyes on the floor. "I believe it is one you know," he said hesitantly.

"Can't it wait?" Harry groaned.

"Go take care of it, pet," Voldemort said as he put a robe on, leaving his body bare beneath. "I have to speak with Severus and Avery anyway."

Harry huffed, but got up and pulled his own robe on, though he at least put boxers on as well. He stepped in front of his Lord and rose up on his toes to kiss him. "Please hurry," he breathed.

Voldemort chuckled, but returned the kiss, knowing how much it pleased his lover.

Harry gave him a smile and left the room, Lucius trailing him. "You have wonderful timing, you know that?" Harry groused as they walked.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Lucius said honestly. "But I really think you'll want to at least see this one.

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Is it true, what Bella said?" Lucius asked after a minute. "That you and our Lord had sex just to terrorize one of the prisoners?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, we did."

Lucius smiled at him after a minute. "I am glad you joined us, Harry," he told him as they stopped in front of the closed door to the meeting hall. "You are good for our Lord and our cause."

Harry smiled softly. "I am glad I joined our Lord as well. I've never been so happy and cared for."

"Or as powerful?" Lucius smirked and opened the door.

"That as well," Harry agreed. And he was. He was Lord Voldemort's equal, his consort, and ally. He was a lord to the Death Eaters and they respected him as such.

Harry's steps faltered when he saw who was on the floor in front of the dais, before he stiffened his posture as he slid into his role as a ruler.

"Hermione Granger," he drawled as he settled himself into Voldemort's thrown.

The young woman snapped her head up in surprise. "Harry?"

"Who captured her?" He asked, noticing the slash on her cheek.

"Connor," Lucius said, gesturing to the man farther back in the room.

"And did she get you?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, My Lord," the man answered, bowing.

"You must be getting sloppy," Harry said, turning his attention back to the girl he once thought of as his best friend. There was a time he would have done anything to protect her, but that was before.

"Harry, what are you doing?" She asked softly. "Why are you here?"

"You would rather I was dead?" He asked calmly. "Why are you here? What were you doing sneaking around here?"

"Stephany was taken," she admitted tearfully. "You have to help us, Harry!"

Harry looked at Lucius in question.

"The woman with information about the traitor," he explained.

Harry nodded then sighed as he looked back at the witch before him. "I really wish you hadn't done this," he said honestly. "You should have just stayed away."

"Please, Harry," she begged.

Harry sighed. Hermione had never done anything against him personally, but she was with the enemy.

"You have to help us!" She continued. "You're supposed to save us!"

"I am not!" He snapped, jumping to his feet and aiming his wand at her. "I do not have to do anything! Much less help people who abandoned me!"

Her mouth fell open in surprise.

"Calm down, Harry."

Harry turned to look at Voldemort as he entered the room, Severus behind him.

Harry blew out his breath, forcing his anger down. "Of course, My Lord," he said, bowing his head in respect. He never called him by his name around anyone other than the Inner Circle.

"Isn't this your mudblood from school?" Voldemort asked as he sat on his thrown, pulling Harry to sit in his lap.

"Yes, My Lord," he answered, lying his head on his lover's shoulder.

"Do you care to ask for her life?" Voldemort asked casually, as he had done with other he knew Harry had cared about before.

"I only care about our lives," Harry responded. He knew how his Lord liked to hear Harry admit that he stopped truly caring about other people.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped in shock.

Harry looked at her without shifting his position in his Lord's embrace.

"Just stop," he told her calmly. "I will not help you and you will only anger us by continuing to do so."

Voldemort tapped his finger on Harry's knee for a moment. "Is she the one people claim to be so smart?" He asked.

"She is, My Lord," Severus answered.

"Perhaps she can be of use," he said. "Do you think so, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, closing his eyes in contentment. "Depends on if she is willing, if not she won't be useful enough," he answered.

"I will never help you!" Hermione exclaimed.

" _Crucio_!"

She fell completely on the floor and screamed in pain at Voldemort's curse.

"She is stubborn," Harry warned when the screaming stopped.

"So were you," Voldemort reminded him.

Harry hummed in agreement. "That was because I refused to allow myself to give in to what I needed," he said after a second.

"How could you, Harry?" Hermione whimpered.

"Because My Lord is willing to give me everything," Harry said with a little smile, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at the witch. "He helped me to submit to the real me."

"You would be wise to keep silent, mudblood," Voldemort warned. "Harry, pet, do you think she can broken and still be useful?"

Harry thought for a moment. "No," he said honestly. "She will pretend then try to either escape or kill you."

"Then there is no reason to keep her."

"Bella just lost her servant," Harry said calmly, earning a chuckle from the other man. "And she has been so good lately, shouldn't she be rewarded? She was the one who gave me the idea for you to heat the sound after you put it in me"

"Hmm, she did, didn't she?" Voldemort asked softly.

Harry nodded against his shoulder. Merlin that had been an experience, to have that thin metal in his cock slowly heat up until he shrieked with the pain, only for it to be rapidly cooled to almost freezing. (For those who done know, a sound is a metal rod that is inserted into the head of a penis and slid all the way down to its base.)

Harry snickered when he heard Severus choke at hearing that bit of information.

"Take her to Bella," Voldemort said in dismissal.

"Harry!" The witch cried as she was taken from the room.

"Are you tired, pet?"

Harry nodded. "I think I lost too much blood in the dungeon," he told him.

"Come then, we have a blood replenishing potion in the bedroom," his Lord said lifting him to his feet.

"I took the last one two nights ago when you decided to use the knife for more than an hour," he pouted as he started walking with his lover from the room.

"I'll have Tippy get another," Voldemort said smoothly, his arm around Harry's waist. "And have Severus brew more."

"Okay," Harry yawned.

Harry curled up on the bed a few minutes later, his head on Voldemort's chest. "I love you, you know," he murmured.

"I know you do, pet," his Lord said calmly.

"Voldemort?" Harry whispered after a minute, already half asleep. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?" Voldemort asked, his hand carding through Harry's hair.

"For freeing me from myself," he answered. ::For giving me what I need.::

And his Lord did. His Lord was so very sadistic and matched Harry's masochism wonderfully. It was what first allowed him to surrender his body and mind to the man. Now his Lord owned his heart and soul as well.

Harry was perfectly happy for the first time in his life, and he only had to surrender entirely to receive everything.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Back when Harry was still a prisoner in the dungeon.

Harry lay on the cold stone floor, staring up at the stone ceiling, waiting.

He d lost count of the days some time ago. It no longer seemed to matter. The only thing in his world for some time now was just a single meal a day, hearing the changing of the dungeon guard and the screams of other prisoners. And Voldemort's daily visit.

The man, who did look far more like a man now, came every day to beat Harry. He didn't even try to get any information, as if Harry would have any.

Harry had fought against him at first, had screamed and cussed him. Then he'd accepted that it was going to happen every day until he could either escape or was rescued, neither likely to happen. Once he stopped fighting so hard, his body was able to respond to the pain.

Pain had been Harry's secret pleasure since he discovered that he could get hard. It was when he was hurting himself while jerking off that he came the hardest.

Being chained in a dungeon getting beat within an inch of his life probably wasn't the best time for his body to respond, but it had. And to his horror, Voldemort finally noticed. He had seen the surprise and twisted pleasure in those red eyes that day.

After that, the man was always making lewd comments, touching him in clearly sexual ways, and even going so far as to jerk him off. All the while as he beat him, cursed him, hurt him in so many ways.

Staring up at the ceiling, Harry could admit to himself just how good it was.

The pain of the whip, cane, wand, blade, or whatever was amazing. The way Voldemort hissed as he said such dirty things to him. The way the wizard looked as he hurt him, the joy in those red eyes, the bulge Harry could see from time to time. The feel of those long pale fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him, sometimes slowly and gently, most often tightly and fast.

Harry looked forward to his daily visitor. And he could finally admit it to himself. He liked what Voldemort did. He liked how lately the Dark Lord would tell him how good Harry was being and how much he enjoyed his time with him. He liked that he no longer worried about what was going on anywhere else. He liked that he wasn t expected to do anything here, except what Voldemort wanted while he was there.

Harry sighed softly.

He knew he should be fighting to get out, should be wanting out, should be missing his friends and the outside world. But he wasn't. He didn't want to fight, he certainly didn't want to fight in a war. And when he was completely honest, he didn't want to miss or care about anyone, or anything. He'd been expected to do so much in his life, while no one really cared about him. He didn't want that.

He wanted peace, for himself, and to be taken care of.

And as strange as it seemed, that was what he was getting in Voldemort's dungeon. Sure, he wasn't getting enough to eat, but it was more and better food than he got at the Dursley's. And yes, he was cold and alone, but again something he'd been all his life. And of course he was hurt, yet again a constant in his life anyway.

His treatment here would be considered bad by other people, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

Here he got halfway decent food, his cell was bigger than his cupboard, he was basically left alone, wasn't expected to be a slave. Yes, Voldemort hurt him, but even that had changed. The man had taken to allowing him some small form of pleasure or release most of the time. He was giving Harry better food lately and even a thin sheet two days ago. He was taking better care of Harry than his family had. And he was taking better care lately, since Harry stopped fighting and started accepting.

Harry smiled faintly. Yes, the Dark Lord was taking care of him, in the important ways. And that was what mattered, right?

And perhaps Voldemort could give him the other thing he wanted. Peace. He wanted to feel at peace, to no longer care or have to take care of others. It was already happening. Harry couldn't do anything about what was going on outside, so he wasn't going to care.

He fingered the thin sheet he had pulled over his body. Voldemort had given it to him for being good, maybe he could earn more? If he stopped fighting, completely stopped fighting, would Voldemort taken even better care of him? If he submitted to the Dark Lord, would he take care of him and allow him the peace he wanted so much?

He liked that idea. But could he do it? Could he completely give into the man who was said to be the most evil wizard of their time? To the man who killed his parents?

Harry closed his eyes and pictured the other wizard in his mind. Images of the man as he hurt him flashed through his mind, as well as one of him walking through the dungeon, of him dealing with his Death Eaters, of him fighting. Images of him running his fingers through Harry's hair, of allowing Harry to sit by his feet and just rest, of him smiling down at Harry as he knelt before him.

Yes, he could do it. Harry decided. Even if he never left the dungeon, he could submit as long as he was taken care of and given peace.

He listened to the now familiar sounds of the dungeon until he heard the sound he knew meant his visitor was coming. He heard the door of the outer dungeon open and the soft "My Lord" given by the guard.

Harry quickly removed his tattered and dirty clothes. He had started doing it awhile back to save what was left of them. Instead of waiting against a wall with the usual trace of fear, he moved to the center of the cell.

He knelt there, sitting back on his feet, bowing his head to look at the floor. He usually felt a little fear as he listened to Voldemort's steps, unsure if today would be the day that the other wizard killed him. He didn't feel that fear this time. He was giving up fear. He was submitting to the Dark Lord and that meant no longer fearing him.

He listened to his cell door open and almost smiled when he heard Voldemort's step falter as seeing him.

"Well, well, Potter," Voldemort said closing the cell door. "What do we have here?"

Harry stared at the floor then the feet that stopped right in front of him.

"Are you broken?" The Dark Lord went on. "Or have you simply stopped fighting me?"

"I no longer wish to fight, My Lord," Harry answered honestly.

The older wizard was silent for a long minute. "What game are you playing?" He asked skeptically.

"No game," he said softly.

He felt Voldemort's thin finger and sharp nail under his chin, lifting his face up. He looked into those blood red eyes and let him see his honesty.

"Are you giving up, Harry?" Voldemort asked slowly.

"Yes, My Lord."

"I never thought I would actually see you bow and call me your lord," he said after another minute. "Especially without you being broken." His pale finger moved to trace Harry's jaw. "It makes me wonder why you are at my feet. Tell me."

"I don t want to fight," My Lord, Harry told him. "I never wanted to fight."

"And what do you want?"

"I just want to be me," he whispered. "I want to selfish and not care about anything else."

"You are not leaving this cell," Voldemort said firmly.

"I know, My Lord," he said calmly. "I simply don t want to fight you anymore."

"Are you going to fight that you enjoy our time?" He asked in a hiss.

Harry shook his head a little.

"Then be a good boy and stand against the wall," the Dark Lord said after a moment. "We'll start with the whip."

Yes, My Lord, Harry said instantly and did what he was told. He knew his life just became so much simpler and he was sure he was going to like it better.

(As was pointed out to me, this is the day Harry sucks Voldemort. This is just the beginning of their session and that does happen, I just didn't think it would be something Voldemort would start with.)


	4. Opinion Request

**A/N** I'm planning on adding clips of Harry and Voldemort's. Would love opinions on if they should be clips of the time between Harry submitting and the Dumbledore scene, or if you all would prefer the story continue past that?

Maybe even the view points of a coupl Death Eaters? On what they saw and how they reacted to Harry and Voldemort's growing relationship?

Would love opinions!


	5. Chapter 5

Draco Malfoy enjoyed a lot of benefits of being the son of the Dark Lord's right hand man. One of them being that he was allowed near their Lord's private chamber s, something only Inner Circle members were allowed, if they were invited.

Draco had never stepped into the Dark Lord s chambers. Just as now, he waited outside of the sitting rooms, waiting while his father spoke to the man.

His father had left the door a little and Draco couldn't help but to look through the small opening. He ignored anything the two wizards might be saying when he spotted the person laying on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Harry Potter lay on the floor on his stomach, his feet kicked up in the air while he read from a book on the floor in front of him. The teen wore only a pair of trousers, showing that his skin was pale and riddled with small wounds and scars.

Draco stared in surprise for a long minute. He, like the rest of the wizarding world, thought Potter was dead. No one had heard of the boy since he was taken more than half a year ago. Now, there the teen was, lounging in the Dark Lord s personal sitting room.

His father came back out after a minute, pulling the door completely shut. Draco followed his father from the manner, sure he had to have been seeing things. Why would the Boy-Who-Lived be reading peacefully in the same room as Lord Voldemort?

Bellatrix glared at the body lying on the bed next to hers. She couldn't believe the little shit actually hurt her enough that she was laid up for the next several hours. Her head still hurt from where he bashed it into the wall.

It was his fault to start with. He shouldn't be alive, or at least not out of a dungeon cell. He certainly shouldn't be allowed to run around the Dark Lord's manor, share his bed, or speak so freely. No, Harry Potter shouldn't be moving around as if he belonged among the Dark Sect.

They were both in the healer's room after yet another fight. She'd been unable to help herself when she'd spotted the brat leaving the Dark Lord's study, looking far too happy and obviously freshly fucked.

She quickly shut her eyes all but a crack when the door to the room opened.

She watched silently as her Lord approached the bed next to hers and sat down on it, his eyes focused on the boy.

"Harry," the Dark Lord said, combing his hand through messy black hair.

Bella fought not to scowl. The boy did not deserve the man's attention! Her Lord deserved someone of better blood and breeding, someone who hadn t been his enemy.

"My Lord?" Potter mumble, clearly just waking up.

Bella watch through her eyelashes as Potter's eyes opened fully and he looked at the older wizard. There was actual joy in those eyes, joy and devotion. It was not the first time she'd seen his green eyes light up upon seeing the Dark Lord.

It was however the first time she saw the Dark Lord smile fondly at the younger man. "Are you better?" He asked.

Potter nodded.

"You must stop fighting with Bella," the Dark Lord said calmly. "She has a wand while you do not. She has the advantage in the fight."

"I still put her here," Potter said then dropped his eyes when red eyes narrowed. "Sorry, My Lord."

"When you fight with her, she hurts you," the Dark Lord said, running his hands through the boy's hair before gripping it tightly. "And I am the only one allowed to hurt you."

Potter gasped softly, his eyes darkening a little as he stared at the other man. "Only you," he said breathlessly.

Bella blinked at them for a second. Was that lust in the boy s voice? She knew that their Lord hurt the boy, it was quite common for him to have cuts and bruises, but did he really enjoy it? She, like a few others, had come across the two having sex, and it had seemed rough, and they all assumed it was rougher to leave such marks, but she figured it was just her Lord that liked it.

Did Potter enjoy being hurt? The way they all knew their Lord liked to hurt others?

Looking at the two, as they stared at each other with lust starting to build in their eyes, she thought maybe Potter was the type of bed partner the Dark Lord wanted, someone who could enjoy being hurt. She certainly didn't know many who like pain during sex beyond spanking and hair pulling. She was fascinated by it, but had no interest in being hurt like that.

"Good," the Dark Lord said firmly and stood up. "I expect you at dinner."

"Of course, My Lord," Potter said with a smile.

The Dark Lord nodded and left the room.

"Have something to say, Bellatrix?" Potter asked after a minute of silence.

Bella sat up, no longer pretending to be asleep. She wasn't sure how the boy knew she was awake, and she wasn't going to ask.

"Why did you join us?" She asked bluntly, something she'd wanted to know since they were told that boy was living in the manor.

"Because the Dark Lord has given me what I need and want most," he said calmly. "He has accepted me and does not expect me to fight."

"And what is it you wanted?" She asked.

"Peace," he said with a faint smile. "And someone to take care of me. I submitted to him and he takes care of me, giving me the one thing I need most in my life."

She nodded before she realized it. "And the torture?" She asked, curious if it was torture that put all of those marks on him or not.

Potter chuckled. "I am not tortured out of cruelty as I had been in the past," he told her. "Now it is for both of our pleasure."

She blinked at him. "You really enjoy it?"

He nodded. "I love how he hurts me, love how he enjoys it," he said with an almost lustful smile. "He can be very cruel and sadistic." He sounded a little breathless now. "And I love it."

Bella stared at him for several long minutes. She knew her Lord was a sadistic man, but even in bed? And the boy enjoyed it. Perhaps he was a good choice for her Lord's lover.

The fact that he was more than just a lover bothered her, but she could admit it was jealousy. Not that she wanted to be their Lord's bed, but to be close to him, almost a friend as it seemed the two men were.

She finally sighed, resigned that Potter did seem to be a good lover for their Lord. It did not mean she suddenly liked him. Not yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**(Takes place before first chapter)**

Voldemort watched as Harry writhed on the bed under a light _crucio_ . The young man's naked body was covered in a sheen of sweat, his wrists bond to the headboard.

He released the curse and leaned forward from where he knelt next to his lover and licked Harry's bloody lip. "Having fun yet, pet?" He hissed.

Harry's eyes fluttered opened and he moaned lustily.

Voldemort smirked and leaned back to sit on his heels. He silently heated the tip of his wand before slowly dragging it down the other man's thin chest, pleased when Harry arched into the pain. Oh, how his lover liked the pain.

And he was his lover. He no longer thought of Harry as just his plaything, as he had when the boy lived in the dungeon and when he'd first moved him into his chambers. No, Harry wasn't just a plaything anymore.

"Please."

His smirk grew at the moaned plea, especially when he saw what was being asked for. Harry had his legs spread wider and was thrusting his hips up, trying to get the wand tip closer to his cock.

"Since you asked," Voldemort teased and ran his wand up the engorged organ.

Harry cried out in pleasure. "Please! Please, My Lord!"

Voldemort moved himself between Harry's thighs and thrust into him without warning, enjoying the scream Harry gave that was a mix of pain and pleasure. The channel was hot and tight, but still slightly loosened from the night before.

He touched the tip of his wand to Harry's abdomen. " _Crucio_."

Harry cried out, his body thrashing and spasming around Voldemort, making him hiss in pleasure.

He released the low powered curse after a second and tossed his wand down. He began thrusting into the still spasming body, enjoying the sounds of pleasure he drew from the one-time savior.

Harry came without a touch to his cock and Voldemort quickly followed.

"Good morning," Harry gasped several minutes later.

"Yes, I believe it is," Voldemort drawled.

Harry chuckled.

"Rest awhile longer," he said, sitting up and releasing the ropes still holding Harry's wrists. "I have a meeting with Greyback this morning." He knew how uneasy the werewolf made Harry so he always tried to warn him when the man was in the manor.

"Okay," the younger man said and wiggled under the blanket.

Voldemort smiled faintly when he reentered the room two hours later to find Harry lounging on the floor, reading. The boy had found a love for reading.

"Harry."

The young man looked up at him with a happy smile. "My Lord," he said calmly. "Meeting go okay?"

"Of course," he said, his hand in his robe pocket, playing with the wand there. He'd been playing with it for two days as he thought.

He released it after a minute and pulled his own out. He pointed it at Harry's leg and shot off a silent spell.

The band around Harry's ankle fell away and the boy gasped as his magic was freed.

Voldemort pulled the other wand from his pocket and held it out as Harry s eyes left his leg to look up at him in shock.

Harry stared at the wand Voldemort offered longingly. "Really?" He breathed

"I have rules," Voldemort said firmly. "But, yes."

"Thank you!"

Voldemort staggered back as Harry suddenly launched into his arms, kissing him.

The look of absolute joy on the younger wizard's face as he took his wand brought a faint smile to Voldemort's.

"You may leave the manor for short trips as well, he told his lover. However, you cannot go without a glamour and guard."

Harry nodded eagerly, caressing his wand.

"And I hope I don't have to make rules about fighting against me or our cause," he went on, not truly concerned. He wouldn't have even thought of giving the body access to his magic again if he wasn't completely sure of his loyalty.

Harry shook his head and looked up at him, his bright green eyes shining with tears and joy. "Thank you so much, My Lord," he whispered.

"I reward loyalty, Harry," he reminded him.

The rest of the day Voldemort had to fight not to smile or roll his red eyes at his lover's antics. Harry spent the day casting spells in a child-like fashion. He changed the color of most of everything, levitated objects, and transfigured others, laughing happily the whole time. The utter happiness his pet expressed made it worth giving him his magic back.

"Are we doing anything tomorrow? Can I go out?" Harry asked late that night, his voice still husky from sex.

"You may," Voldemort allowed.

Harry grinned. "Great! Bella, Draco, and I are going shopping!"

Voldemort covered his eyes with a groan. He still didn't understand how Harry had made friends with his most insane follower and her ponce of a nephew.


End file.
